Herz Von Stahl

My door slammed open to an angry face that wouldn’t want to be seen in the wee break of morning by anyone: which would be my step-mother who had gotten barely any sleep with eyes baggier than a baby bulldog.

“You better not have been up all night on that computer, Xylona. Your father’s not going to be happy if he finds out you’ve been up all night,” she criticized while leaning on the door to hold her sleepy self up.

“Don’t worry. I’ve heard you two having sex while angry. You seem to enjoy it more when he puts a little angered effort into it,” I said nonchalantly taking a sip of water from my water bottle that was lying beside me.

I shouldn’t have said that to my step-mother, but she was a very special step-mother. I mean, she’s barged in my bathroom while I’ve been in the shower so many times that she should be in the Guinness Book Of World Records for it—and why exactly did she have to barge in, you ask? To tell me my father’s home, or to tell me what we’re having for dinner, or something she totally could have waited for when I was out of the shower. Sometimes I even hear footsteps out of my room when I’m changing.

Kind of creepy, huh? I honestly think that she’s not who she turns out to be in my father’s eyes. Or she’s at least a creepy step-mother who wants to check the process of my puberty… Which is still gross and should be said to someone who will give a damn about it.

I mean, I’ve told my father about her invading my privacy, but he’s not much help. “She doesn’t mean to just barge in, sweetie.” –And that’s it! Don’t get my wrong, I love my father dearly. I mean, he’s the only family I have since my mother suddenly left with my younger brother a couple years ago for a reason I still don’t know. I ask him plenty times a week and he just changes the subject very quickly. Honestly, I have a feeling that he did the stupidest thing for my mother to just end up leaving without consulting me about any of it. I was her oldest and she just left with my younger brother and acted like I meant nothing to her. And that’s how I feel about her now. Or at least that’s what I like to think.

But anyways, back to my step-mother.

Her first response to my reply was to space out, as if she was remembering a night of having sex with my father. She always seems like she's trying to get into bed with him. To me, she had two things on her mind: sex and creeping. Not my type of a mother—especially a step-mother. I’ve even had dreams of my father leaving her. It always depresses me that I was only dreaming. That’s why I don’t sleep sometimes: to avoid having dreams that should have be reality.

My step-mother snapped out of her little daydream and plastered a glare to her face. It even looked childish. “Don’t be a brat, Xylona. Now, you didn’t stay up all night, did you?” she demanded.

I rolled my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. I still think that my step-mom had some growing up to do. She even talked to me like she was my sister, not a woman who had to pretty much take the job of being my mother. “Daddy!” I called, putting on my innocent smile.

He soon came by my door and stuck his head into my room. “What is it, Xylona?” he asked sincerely. “Why are you still in bed? Do you feel well?”

I frowned and tried to look like I was nauseous. “My stomach is upsetting me a little. May I stay home from school today?” I asked, laying my head back onto my pillow.

“Of course, sweetie. But what about your little winter trip? For choir, was it?”

“Yeah. It’s for choir.”

“Are you too sick to go? It’s okay if you are. You can come along with Thabela and me if you aren’t feeling well,” my father said, putting his arm around my step-mother.

Thabela looked at my father in sheer horror. It was like he just told her that they were getting a divorce. Then she blurted, “We already have our plane tickets for Florida, Markus. There’s no possible way we could get an extra one.”

“Don’t be silly, Thabela. There’s always time to get a ticket for my little girl,” he said kissing her cheek.

I really wanted to groan aloud. Seeing how stupid my dad was hurt me. I really don’t understand what he sees in her that I can’t.

“No, my stomach is just a little upset. I will be okay by the time I need to leave,” I told him with a perfect sick-like smile.

Thabela’s face gleamed as she looked at my father. “You have a strong girl, Markus. She’s a fast healer,” she told him.

“I know how strong she is.” He smiled and looked once at my step-mother and then back at me. “I need to get going to work and Thabela is coming with me because I need some help.”

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that Thabela has no job. So I have to deal with her all hours of the day that I spend at home. She has no friends and all her family is in a different state. My father is the only friend she has and I think that she only likes him for his sexual abilites, but I really don’t want to think about that. Though I have never told him how I truly felt about her, he was happy and I assume that he would be miserable without her. No matter how useless I think she is.

“That’ll be okay. I don’t want to spread anything incase I have more than a little stomach virus,” I said. (Although it was a lie. If anything spread to my step-mother and got her away from my father, I’d be happier than ever).

“Okay, but if it gets worse don’t you be afraid to call me and let me know. I’ll be more than willing to come home and take care of you,” my father said.

“I’m sure it’ll be nothing,” I assured him, smiling to let him know it wasn’t that bad.

“Alright!” he looked at Thabela. “Should we get going?”

She smiled a smile that looked like she was trying to seduce him. She was telling him she was ready to go, not to go hop into bed with him.

“Yes. Lets go.” She turned towards me. “Hope you feel better,” she said lazily.

Liar. “Thanks.”

“See you in a few weeks, sweetie,” my father said before shutting my door.

“Ugh,” I whispered.

Then I got out of bed to go look into my mirror. My hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail bun and I had a long, baggy shirt on with short shorts. Very attractive, I know. But who did I have to impress when I was sleeping? I have a cat, but I’m pretty sure he could care less of what I look like and the only thing he probably cares about when he gets food in his bowl. I didn’t have any sleepovers with friends because Thabela didn’t like the “racket” teens made when having them. But, like before, my father agreed with her and I wasn't able to have any sleepovers. I can’t even go to someone else’s house because my step-mother didn’t want me to cause racket at their home. Bullshit, I know.

I stepped away from the mirror and pulled out a drawer from my dresser across the room. I smiled as the first thing I saw was my green plaid skirt. Perfect to wear when being stuck in a crowed airplane.

Then I frowned. It was December, and in Minnesota, it meant ‘don’t anyone dare wear a skirt.’

I picked it up and shoved it in a baby blue colored suitcase that I had hidden under my bed. In my suitcase, you would think that I’d have mostly clothes and things an average person would need, wouldn’t you? Then you are wrong because for what I actually have in my suitcase are games. Yeah, I’m a game freak and I most likely won’t quit a game that I enjoy until I beat it or are literally forced to shut the game system off.

My clothes were packed neatly underneath my games and gaming systems. They had to be protected for a possible bumpy plane ride and from it being tossed around while getting to the plane. Now I had to put some clothes on the game systems so it’d be protected there too.

But don’t worry, I still have a hair dryer, bathing accessories, and other stuff… you know.

When I finished the rest of my packing I went to go get out of my pajamas and into the shower. And to my amusement, I recognized that I had already packed my shower stuff. …Great. Now I had just gotten into the water to clean myself without things to clean myself with. Just my luck, eh?

After my useless shower I put on my black jeans and a shirt in bright baby blue--the exact color of my suitcase--that had a few purple splotches along its full-length sleeves. I combed my dark chocolate brown hair and starred at it for a good minute. What to do with it? That was the thought in my head. I wasn’t going anywhere special other than an airport until I got to the destination, which wasn’t anywhere special to me.

The destination was Japan. I felt no excitement for going to Japan, per se, I just wanted to get away from my father and step-mother. Okay, I didn’t really want to get away from my father; it was certainly to get away from my step-mother. And I guess it’d be fun to see a different culture other than America and Germany, where I lived the first half of my life.

Japan… how could I put my hair for Japan?

I shrugged and just combed it down. I had no need to worry about random curls. My hair was so straight that it never had a single ringlet unless I used a curler. Might as well let it dry because I had already packed everything that I needed except for my toothbrush and toothpaste. I was smart only for my teeth.

After brushing my teeth, I left my bathroom and went into my room to pack away my toothbrush and toothpaste. Then I went back to my bed, crawled under my covers, and laid down. Setting my phone’s alarm to wake me up in two hours, which was when I had to get to the airport.

For the first time in a while, it felt good to relax in an empty home where my step-mother was finally out of the house. I couldn’t pass this opportunity to sleep without some possible stalker in my own house.

Staying up all of last night probably wasn’t a good thing, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell quickly into deep slumber.

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My eyes fluttered open to a bright, hot sun shining in my face. I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. I checked my phone and practically jumped onto my knees. My alarm clock didn’t go off and I was an hour late! So much for arriving early!

I hoped out of bed and ran to my bathroom to look at how I looked. My hair dried straight alright, but my hair had some static and seemed to be all over the place. I quickly brushed my hair and sloped makeup onto my face and it looked very messy. I growled at how I looked, but I had no time to fix it. I was running late.

Practically running to my room, I picked up my large suitcase and took it to my rusty, metallic orange Honda Civic. I shoved it into the backseat of my car and was about to get into the front seat until I remembered that I didn’t have everything that I needed.

I ran back inside to grab my carry-on bag, which was pretty much full of video games and books that would include game guides, and threw it over my shoulder. I also grabbed my computer and put it in its case.

Was I missing anything else?

I looked around in my room and saw that I had everything that I needed. I went downstairs and saw that my dad had left me a bag lunch. I grabbed that and ran to my front door to bolt it shut. Then I rushed through the garage and put in the code to shut it off.

I was finally ready!

I hoped into my car and backed out. Driving as fast as I could, I ate the lunch my father bagged up for me. Eating and driving was not a good thing to do for a teenager, so I wouldn’t advise it. But I had no choice—I had to get to the airport quickly or I would have to explain to two angry girls on why I was late. I really didn’t want to tell them that I overslept since I didn’t even enjoy sleeping.

I looked at my clock. I had fifteen minutes to make it. I have to speed my way through, so hopefully no cops will approach!